Coping
by lilac-kat
Summary: "The oldest teacher is Phonograph...we're not allowed to talk about Phonograph..." Just a one-shot drabble I felt inspired to write after reading the latest *Adventures In Lurning* comic. Told from the perspective of Roy. All credit for characters and artwork goes to alisonwonderland on Tumblr, please go check out her work! (note: contains some hints of mild OC shipping)


**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any part of "Don't Hug Me, I'm Scared". Nor do I own any of the additional characters, events, or artworks associated with the popular ask blog _Adventures in Lurning_. I am simply a longtime fan of alisonwonderland's work who felt compelled to write down a response after reading the Phonograph Story Arc. Hope you enjoy it!**

Roy relaxed his finger off the console's 'Delete' button and sat back in his chair.

There. It was done.

His first teacher had been erased, ensuring no more students could escape due to its incompetence.

His very first teacher…

 _"I'm being DELETED…?!"_

No, none of that now. He'd made the right decision. The phonograph had long since left behind its wide-eyed, eager compliance. The phonograph had become dangerous, disobedient, too great of a threat. An example needed to be made to the other teachers. Independent thought in students _would not_ be tolerated, period. Any teacher who allowed such would be forced to face the consequences.

The phonograph had been let off too easy for its past mistakes, anyhow. Roy knew he'd been more lenient than he should've with his oldest talking object, giving it second and even third chances when previous students escaped the Lie World by its hands. Punishment was long overdue.

 _"Th-they can do that…?"_

Yes, he'd made the right decision.

Leaning forward, Roy opened a side compartment in the console and pulled out a cardboard box. Unfolding its flaps, he stuck a hand into the mess of flash drives, floppy disks, SD cards, and uncooked fragments of Ramen noodles, fishing around for one item in particular. Several times he noticed blank hard drives float to the surface before migrating back down, and it occurred to him the time might be approaching to add another batch of teachers to his staff. Newer teachers who would be more agreeable, less jaded, and would wholly submit to his will in cleansing all students of independent thought by December 31.

December 31. It was only June 1. There were still seven more months of lessons to go.

And already his first teacher had rebelled against its programming.

How many more might follow?

 _"Roy can't do that! Not to you…!"_

Come to think of it, Coby the Computer _had_ reacted to Phonograph's deletion in a rather telling way...

Roy shook his head to clear away the disturbing idea. Ideas. Ideas were inherently disturbing. Students couldn't have them, end of discussion. He resolved to give Coby a strict talking to, and would resort to similar treatment as Phonograph's if necessary. Meanwhile, he'd start thinking about what kinds of teachers he was going to need in the coming classes. These new teachers would be fresher, sharper, cleverer, and far more effective in discouraging students from indulging in independent thought right from the start. Even better, maybe one of these new teachers could be programmed to _teach_ creativity. Roy toyed with the notion. Counterintuitive, but surprisingly effective. Yes, that might actually work. A teacher to teach creativity. Like a paintbrush, or a sketchbook, or a machete…no, not subtle enough, maybe best to go with the sketchbook. A teacher who taught creativity, but a _right_ way to do it, and would steer students away from anything _too_ creative like independent thought. Who would punish them for engaging in any kind of creativity outside of what was allowed, and discourage them from wanting to be creative in the first place, thus hindering the very concept of independent thought before it could take root. Yes, that was it! With a teacher like this as the very first one on the schedule, there'd be no reason any subsequent teachers, new or old, could find it difficult to continue the hindrance.

 _"Before I die I want you all to know…!"_

His older teachers wouldn't necessarily have to go, of course, but with new teachers like these, they would simply have to keep up. Tony would have no trouble with that, of course, and nor would Gilbert, Solar System, or Shrignold. The teacher-in-training Tori looked promising, but nothing could be certain until Roy had seen its first lesson. And then there were those like Coby and Dandy, whom Roy knew he would need to keep an eye on.

At last his hand closed on what he was looking for, and he pulled it out. Roy examined the floppy disk. It was an older model, and that was saying something for floppies. It was a little bent, and the writing on the label was faded somewhat, but Roy could still make out his own scrawl.

PHONOGRAPH – b. 1-1-55

Easing himself off the seat, Roy shuffled over to a side wall in his control room, where a wide hole opened down to his garbage incinerator. Carelessly he tossed in the floppy disk and shuffled back to the control panel, ready to move on with his next project.

… … … … … …

Or, at least that's what he intended to do.

Instead he stopped, hand frozen in midair over the hole in the wall, two fingers poised to let go of the eight-inch disk pinched between them.

It was still in his hand.

Why was it still in his hand?

Roy grunted. No matter, it too needed to be done. Quickly he tossed in the disk and shuffled back to his seat before he could further reconsider.

Except. Again, he didn't do that.

 _"Our universe is a hologram, Roy didn't make any of you…,"_

Roy squeezed his eyes shut. Phonograph. All he could picture was Phonograph. Phonograph…Phonograph…Phonograph popping into existence the first time his floppy was downloaded…Phonograph gingerly reaching up to place the needle on his own turntable, cranking his handle and innocently singing his heart out to his own music…Phonograph scribbling notes as Roy gave him instructions for how to be a teacher…Phonograph meeting Coby for the first time and joyfully thanking Roy for giving him a friend…Phonograph struggling to roller-skate alongside Coby as she zoomed gracefully across the floor…Phonograph and Coby doing literally everything together when they weren't teaching or writing lesson plans…Phonograph tirelessly welcoming new teachers like Solar System, Dandy, Penny, Tony, Saxophone, Magnet, Gilbert, Lamp, Shrignold, Sammy, never hesitating to be friendly to all and to show them the ropes…Phonograph organizing Friday night dances in the Teacher's Lounge, music provided of course…Phonograph getting a little too drunk with Lamp one afternoon and nearly giving away Roy's identity before Roy zapped him out of the lounge and sobered him up in the nick of time…Phonograph staring bewildered at Penny and Tony cavorting through the lounge surrounded by floating pink hearts…Phonograph blushing in embarrassment as he tried to kiss Coby and ended up knocking his sound horn into her monitor…Phonograph taking photos of himself and Coby and other teacher groups for the yearbook, never without a smile on his face…Phonograph, the only object who ever gave Roy a hug…

Phonograph, the pixels exploding from his burning eyes as he screamed in rage before winking out of existence…

Phonograph…

His very first teacher…

 _"AND HE DOESN'T CARE IF WE LIVE OR DIE…!"_

Roy clenched his jaw. Angry with himself, he wound back his arm and hurled the floppy disk across the room with all his might. It soared through the air, rapidly disappearing in the murky blackness. Seconds later, he heard a faint clatter on the floor from the far corner of the room, way out of anyone's sight.

Getting rid of the phonograph was the right decision. It was merely a faulty object to be discarded. Roy knew that.

Letting out a slightly heavier breath than usual that, to someone who didn't know him, might've sounded like a sigh, Roy shuffled back to his seat facing the control panel. Revising lesson plans for the remaining Class of June 1st, admonishing old teachers, programming new ones, microwaving his next Cup o' Noodles…there was much work to be done.


End file.
